


I'd take care of you (if you'd ask me to)

by fauu_stine



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Healing, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauu_stine/pseuds/fauu_stine
Summary: As a caregiver, Even has been taking care of Marianne for a few months now. They get along very well and Even has seen so many pictures of Isak, heard so many stories about him, but has never actually met him.Or well... Until the day he does, quite unexpectedly.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 177
Kudos: 427





	1. photograph

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back!
> 
> This story has been on my mind for months now but I've been procrastinating (as always). But it's lockdown 2.0 in my country, I had a few days off from work so I decided to write as much as possible. Here's the result. I hope you will like it. Please, don't hesitate to share your thoughts, no matter what they are, it helps me build the story too. 
> 
> I will update once a week, every Wednesday. In the meantime, you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/etannetsted).
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> PS: a huge thank you to my dear friend [Sandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelcurtains/pseuds/parallelcurtains) for proofreading this fic!

From his place, it's a five-minute walk to the bus stop where he takes the 21 bus line. He gets off a dozen stops later, waits for the tramway, then hops on the 12 line for the North hills of the city, until he reaches the Grefsen neighbourhood. From there, it's another short walk through the neat and peaceful streets before he arrives at Marianne's house.

By now, Even knows the routine by heart.

Today is Monday, and on Mondays, his schedule is usually rather open for improvisation. If necessary, he quickly cleans the house, then he checks the fridge and the kitchen cupboards to write down the shopping list for the next day - Even usually takes Marianne grocery shopping on Tuesdays, or he goes on his own if she doesn't feel up to it. On Saturdays, Marianne likes to go to the Farmer's Market in Birkelunden, and she rarely misses it. 

After that, he makes sure to fill her pillbox, like he does every day with no exception, while she takes her meds with a cup of tea - Marianne always makes tea around the time Even arrives, so they can sit and drink some warm beverage together before he does anything else. 

When the weather is clement enough, they go on a walk. If not, they busy themselves with drawing, painting, and more recently, collaging. Every once in a while, Even asks his friends and his parents to keep old newspapers and magazines for him to bring to Marianne so she can make collages with it. She told him once how she used to be very creative, how her favorite pastime was to sit in front of an open window, especially on rainy days, to work on sketches or watercolor paintings. But she stopped after she got married, because Terje always considered her hobbies to be futile, childish entertainments. Terje is no longer in her life though, and Even is happy he can bring art back into her life without any judgement. 

On the weekend, they bake together; cookies or cakes or pies to bring and share with other parishioner friends of hers after Sunday's service at Grefsen Church. Even usually drops her off and picks her up without actually attending Mass. Still, Marianne always makes sure to save a couple of slices for him to bring back home.

Most of the time, Even views his work as fairly simple: it's mostly about making sure she follows some steady habits, eats healthy, drinks water, takes her meds, and goes to her therapist appointments every two weeks, her psychiatrist check-ups every three months - which is the reason why today is an exception, a variation in their usual agenda, since he needs to take her to Dr. Haugen's office for her medication dosage review. 

However, for a variety of personal reasons, what Even tends to find the most challenging in his daily tasks is the part where he's supposed to keep an eye on Marianne's mental state and report any changes to her doctor. 

Because this isn't something he would have ever imagined himself doing for someone who isn't him, let alone as an actual job.

His mother is a nurse and his father is a social worker, so all things considered, Even knows this is the kind of job people who don't know him very well but pretend they do would expect him to have. For him and for the people who actually do know him though, he's always been more of the quirky, chaotic and artistic kind of guy.

Yet, after high school, he didn't know what to do, neither fine art nor film studies really inspired him despite his obvious inclination for them. So, after a few months of doing nothing with his friends, he decided to get a job, at least until he figured out what to do with his life. 

His parents came up with the idea: one of their friends needed someone to take care of their ageing parent and the tasks were simple enough as a first experience - to clean the house, do the grocery shopping, cook, and keep the old man company. Even accepted the offer, rather because he didn't want to be a burden for his parents anymore than out of true conviction that he would be perfect for the job. 

And yet, he turned out to be quite good at it. Apparently, people liked him, people trusted him. Not everything he did was gratifying but he didn't mind as long as he felt like he was helping someone else. 

Because for the first time since he's been diagnosed with bipolar disorder back in high school, he was needed, and not in need. And Even has never felt more relieved.

A few months later, the old man became too sick to stay at home. His children made the necessary arrangements to move him to a retirement home and it's been the end of Even's work. But those few months were enough to convince him that helping other people was perhaps his true call and so he decided to pursue this unexpected path. 

"Even, sweetie! Good morning!" Marianne greets him happily from somewhere in the house the second he opens the front door and steps inside. "Come here! I have tea and a few treasures to show you!"

"Alright, I'm coming," Even chuckles at her eagerness, storing his set of keys inside his pocket before taking his shoes and his jacket off.

The house smells like freshly baked gingerbread, meaning Marianne must have gotten up early this morning. That and the excitement in her voice are a pretty solid indicator that this is one of her good days, which he didn't expect coming from her as Marianne is usually much grimer on days when she's meant to meet with Dr. Haugen. Even gets it though. Every appointment is a reminder that you aren't and will never be perfectly fine, no matter how hard you're working to make it look like you're no different from anyone else.

When Even walks into the kitchen, Marianne is waiting for him with a warm smile, a teapot, two mugs, and a slice of gingerbread served on a plate ready to be savoured. 

There is also an old, dusty, unknown shoe box sitting on the table.

"Come sit down!" She urges him while pouring steaming tea into their waiting mugs.

Marianne Valtersen is different from the few other people he has taken care of in the past. She's younger, to start, without a doubt around his own mother's age, and she doesn't suffer from any physical illness or disability. Her disorder... is in her brain. Just like his.

Even got the job offer thanks to the recommendation of a relative of a former patient who happened to be Terje Valtersen's colleague. The job interview has been short, clearly pro forma. Terje didn't seem to care that Even still had little experience, and absolutely no experience in taking care of patients with mental illnesses - except his own, but even that, Terje didn't know about.

At first, Even wasn't sure whether it was a good idea or not. How was he supposed to keep an eye on someone else's mental state when sometimes he couldn't even trust his own mind? But he had just left his parents' place to move in with Mikael, meaning he needed the money more than ever, and Terje Valtersen didn't ask him any questions except when he could start working, so ultimately, he decided to grab the opportunity and to shut up. Or more like, Even considered the opportunity offered to him and Mikael told him to shut up and just take it, and so he did.

But Even is glad he didn't let his fears get the better of him. He's also glad his best friend is much more stubborn than him ("Even, you need to take it. Take! It!" Mikael had spent days repeating to him until Even gave in and finally called Terje back to accept the offer). It's been months and he's been perfectly capable of doing his job. And on top of it, Marianne and he get along more than fine. It's always a pleasure to spend time with her, even on her bad days - especially on her bad days, actually, because she's a beautiful soul and she doesn't deserve to be left alone with her demons.

"Look what I found!" Marianne exclaims once he's seated, gesturing at the mysterious shoe box resting on the table. 

"What… What is it?" Even asks, examining it quickly from all sides. 

Marianne doesn't answer with words, instead grabs the top and opens the box for him. Inside, Even discovers hundreds of photographs.

"Where did you find it?"

"It was on top of my wardrobe, can you believe it?" Marianne chuckles, drawing a couple of photographs out of the box.

"How did you even manage to reach for-"

"Don't be boring, Even," she cuts him off, rolling her eyes at him as if he's being the irresponsible one. But seeing her so happy, all he can do is huff and give in. "Look! Look how adorable my baby boy was when he was 5!" 

Too curious not to, Even takes the photographs she hands him. It looks like the kind of pictures people used to take with disposable cameras, shapes and lines made of smooth contrasts and grainy texture. In the first photograph, there is a small curly blondhaired boy smirking at the camera, his hands dirty with mud while the tiled floor he's sitting on appears to be stained with his brown handprints. 

Now, Even understands better why she's in such a positive mood.

"An artist," Even snorts, switching to the next photograph. This time, Marianne's son seems to be getting very close to the white immaculate wall with his threatening, muddy hands.

"As if! I tried, I really did, but Isak couldn't care less about his pencils and his brushes. He did love to make a mess though," she says with a fond, motherly smile on her lips. "And piss his father off, too."

"Obviously," Even comments, seeing it for himself as he looks at the next photograph, a comic scene of little Isak giggling, looking absolutely adorable - his mother is absolutely right about that - and seemingly amused by the sight of his father's frustrated face. Behind them, the little boy clearly used the wall as a canvas. But to be fair, the couple of times Even has met Terje Valtersen in person, he didn't see the shadow of a smile on the man's face, so ruined wallpaper or not, Even is tempted to believe very little would have made him laugh with his son anyway.

It's also not the first time Even finds himself looking at pictures of a boy he doesn't know but weirdly feels like he does, the result of hours spent in the past few months listening to Marianne's stories about her witty, endearing son, sitting in a house where there isn't a single room without a photography of him. More and more often, Even catches himself hoping to meet him someday; Isak Valtersen, the fearless hero who inhabits all of Marianne's nostalgic tales.

On the other hand, Marianne speaks about him with so much fondness, with so much love, that sometimes Even can't help but judge her son's absence. How come he never visits her, never even calls her? 

But if Even's work ever taught him anything, it is to never judge people, because there is always more than meets the eye. 

Still, Even has grown to care a lot for Marianne (probably more than what's considered as professional) and on days like today, he can't fight back the unfairness he feels on her behalf when he thinks about her husband, who's ready to pay anyone to deal with her so he doesn't have to, and about her child, whom she's so proud of but who only ever exists in her stories and on ageing pictures, neither of them bothering to stop by and check on her themselves, ever.

So, that's right, if Even's work ever taught him anything, it is to never judge people.

But if life ever taught him anything, it is that some people simply don't deserve the love they are given.

*

Like most nights, the boys hang out at Even's and Mikael's, spread out in the cramped living room slash dining room slash kitchen, arguing over a Fifa tournament. They ordered pizzas and ate everything except a few pieces saved for Mikael, who's busy at work but should be back any time now.

Speaking of...

Heavy footsteps in the corridor. A screeching noise against the front door, almost like (exactly like) someone bumped into it. And then-

"So," Mikael speaks up, shutting the door loudly on his way inside the apartment. He kicks his shoes off and leaves them in the way like he always does, although Even told him about a hundred times not to do it after he almost twisted his ankle by stepping on a shoe the first week they moved in. "So," Mikael repeats, checking that everybody is listening to him, and when he's satisfied with the attention, he throws himself in the nearest spot on the couch, which happens to be next to Elias, with a dramatic gasp. "I got fired."

"Again?!" All of them exclaim, appalled at the all too familiar news.

"Again," Mikael sighs like a Disney princess cliché, bringing a hand to his forehead while he leans heavily on Elias (or more like, pushes him to steal more space). Elias glares at him in return but it's not like Mikael is paying any attention to him. "But I promise this time it wasn't my fault!"

Obviously, none of them believes a word of it. It's been going on for years now: Mikael can't keep a job, and it's always his fault, no matter what he says, and always for the most unbelievable reasons. 

Actually, most of the time, it's a miracle in itself if he manages to get hired. The very first job interview Mikael had, he didn't even show up at the right address. Believe it or not, he didn't get any better over the years.

"Not your fault? You mean like the time you left a freezer unplugged all night after using the socket to charge your phone and they had to dump all the food?" Elias recalls Mikael's first - and far from being the last - disastrous mistake at work. It was years ago but they still talked about it as if it happened yesterday because… Who does stuff like that except Mikael?! 

"Working at Burger King sucked anyway!" Mikael protests as if it's a valid argument to justify his actions. "They didn't deserve my salesman talents!"

"Oh, right! Remember when you worked as a salesman in this tech shop? You didn't last two days on your trial period," Yousef adds and they all break into laughter at the memory. 

"Oh yes!" Mutasim chokes out between two giggles. "And you charged a customer 0.05 kroner instead of 5000 because you are incapable of using a cash register."

Mikael whines and groans and retorts stubbornly, "that's their own fault for trusting a complete stranger when they claim they are the best salesman in Oslo!"

"That's kind of fair," Adam kindly indulges him.

"You're the worst," Even grins. "What did you do this time?"

"I just told you I didn't do anything!" Mikael protests. They all stare at him in silence then, waiting for him to drop the victim act. "Fine! I might have forgotten to close the office last night."

Mutta's eyes go wide as he sits up in a hurry. "Did someone break in?!"

"Nope."

"Mikael. What did you do?" Even insists. He knows his best friend isn't telling them the whole truth. He can see he has his 'troublemaker' glimpse in his eyes.

"Alright! So, I might have forgotten to close the office last night so the big boss yelled at me when he heard about it, told me I was completely incompetent- I forget to answer the phone sometimes, so what?!"

"Mik… You're a receptionist. That's literally your job," Yousef intervenes.

"Anyway," Mikael ignores him, waving his words away dismissively. "I was stressed after that. No one likes to be yelled at, right? I decided I deserved a little break, and I happened to have some weed on me…"

"Oh boy," Even whispers with anticipation, feeling the disaster coming.

"I didn't know there was a goddamn smoke detector right outside the closet nor that the door didn't shut properly! That's their own fault, really!"

"Did you have to evacuate the building?!" 

"... they found the joint and me before that but the alarm wouldn't stop for an hour."

After that, they can barely breath from laughing too hard for too long. Even has to wipe actual tears from the corner of his eyes.

"It should be illegal to let you work, I swear," Elias jibes him. "You suck and you don't even do it on purpose!"

"Rude! Y'all meany!" Mikael complains, drama queen that he is. He stands up and steps on their feet on purpose as he walks across the room to sit next to Adam- or to be more precise, to cuddle against him, half-sitting on his lap as he throws a leg over his thighs. "Adam! You're the only person I can trust not to judge me!"

"Anytime, buddy," Adam replies casually, clapping him on the shoulder. In return, Mikael beams and bats his eyelashes at him. Like he said: a goddamn Disney princess.

Then, Even meets Mikael's gaze.

 _You're so whipped_ , Even silently tells him. _Your big fat crush is showing._

 _Shut the fuck up,_ Mikael retaliates like the child he is deep down inside. _I'm not pining!_

"What are you going to do now?" Mutta asks, interrupting their telepathic best friend conversation.

Mikael pauses for a moment, looking deep in thought. But then, he smiles with all his teeth and says, "maybe Yousef or Even can pull strings for me!"

"No!" They both counterback. 

"You can't take care of yourself- hell, you can't take care of an inanimate object, there is no way I'm leaving you in charge of someone," Even clarifies and Yousef nods in agreement.

"But if I don't get a job, I can't pay rent! No rent, no home, we end up on the streets!" Mikael cries and pouts and makes puppy eyes at him.

For the fun of it, Even pretends to be considering the question, only to reply, "Mik, I would rather live on the streets."

The boys are snickering again while Mikael slumps deeper into the couch. Even knows Mikael knows he's right, but that's not something his best friend would ever willingly admit.

"You're so lucky to have a job that you love and are good at," Mikael mutters, his first serious words of the night, and it actually makes Even think. 

Mikael isn't wrong; he loves what he does, and he's good at it, and it definitely makes him quite lucky for it.

"It's still a no," Even says after a while. "But I guess we can figure out something where you aren't responsible for someone else."

Next thing he knows, Mikael is springing out of his seat and making a beeline for him before crushing him into a tight hug as a token of appreciation for his support.

After all, that's what he does now, right? Taking care of people so they don't think about taking care of him.

*

On Wednesday morning, Even is on his way to the pharmacy to pick Marianne's meds up. 

And ever since he left the apartment barely an hour ago, he received about a dozen messages from Mikael, all of them expressing to some extent how well he's dealing with his first unemployed day alone at home.

_I'm so bored already, send help!!!_

_Would you mind ditching work to keep me company?_

_Kidding!_

_Unless…?_

_Please answer me :(_

_How dare you have a life without me!!!_

_B O R E D. Dat me. I'm BORED._

Even ignores every single one of them, instead sends a message to Adam that says: _I think Mikael is having a tough time :/ Are you free today? I bet he would love having his ass kicked at Fifa or something._

He hits send, smirking at the thought of Mikael losing his shit when Adam shows up unannounced at their place, before he puts his phone away.

When Even was still in high school, he worked at a movie theatre for one summer. He still has the contact of the owner, Karl, so he called him yesterday to ask if he needed anyone ("actually… maybe"), and then to suggest Mikael's candidature ("I need to talk to my team about it first but I will call you back by the end of the week, okay?"). 

Mikael doesn't know about it yet. Partly because Even doesn't want him to get his hopes up until he gets a proper answer from Karl - just like Even, Mikael has always been passionate about movies. Mostly because Mikael shouldn't have it too easy, too fast, or he will never learn from his mistakes.

Sometimes, being friends with Mikael really feels like raising a child.

Finally, Even gets inside the pharmacy he's used to going to. All the employees know him by now: they don't ask for his proxy certificate anymore, and they check Marianne's medical prescription with a mere professional conscience glance at it. 

Today is different though. The second Even steps inside, he notices there is a new pharmacist standing behind the counter. And the further he walks in, the more intrigued he is by the newcomer. He's certain he has never seen him here before and yet, he looks weirdly familiar to him. 

"Good morning, sir," the pharmacist greets him with a warm, professional smile. Even can't help but notice he's a very handsome young man, with dark blond curly hair, hazel eyes, delicate lips curved like a bow and a small gap between his teeth he finds particularly attractive for some mysterious reasons. He can almost hear Mikael making fun of him ("His teeth? You're having a thing for his teeth, all of things?!"). 

"How may I help you?" The young man asks, snapping him out of his inappropriate thoughts. Even wishes with all his might that he isn't blushing like an idiot.

"Hello," Even says, but his voice is hoarse and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. "Hm… I have a prescription."

The new pharmacist stares at him a little too long, blinking at him in silence, and Even doesn't even know who's being the most awkward anymore. Then Even remembers that he's supposed to provide him with Marianne's social security number and he hastily rummages through his pockets.

(Alright, he's definitely the one making it weird. Moving on...)

When he finally hands him the print of her social security registration, their fingers brush for barely half a second and Even shouldn't feel as fluttered as he does over such a simple touch. He also shouldn't convince himself the young man looks as affected as him, sneaking a peek at him every once in a while as he types on his computer.

At some point, he frowns, and before Even has time to question if there is a problem, the pharmacist asks in a surprisingly flat tone, "may I see your proxy certificate and a piece of identification, please?

Oh, right. He doesn't know him. Makes sense. 

… Or does it, really?

In any case, Even has no other choice but to comply. This time, the pharmacist doesn't spare him a single glance as he inspects his documents. Then, after long seconds of careful examination, he gives it all back to him and disappears in the back of the pharmacy without a word.

The whole thing feels off but surely Even is overthinking, like he always does. The guy is only doing his job and he doesn't need some tall weirdo ogling him at his workplace.

Still, no matter how pretty the young man is, it isn't the only reason why he caught Even's attention. Even isn't being sappy on purpose, it isn't a "I feel like I know you already" remake; the pharmacist really looks familiar, although he can't figure out why and how he would even know him.

For a brief second, Even considers the possibility that he could have been a past, drunk hook-up. _No way you would forget about him_ , his brain corrects him immediately, and it seems about right. If he really had had the chance to flirt with him, to kiss him, he would have never let him go without putting up a proper fight; meaning, since he considers himself a gentleman, asking for his name, his number and when they can see each other again, too.

(Mikael loves to call him desperate, but coming from someone who's been pining after his crush without trying anything for years now, it means little to him.)

"Here it is." The handsome pharmacist is back with a small craft bag he hands him over the counter and a small, polite smile on his lips. "Have a great day, sir."

Even thanks him and allows himself one last lingering gaze before wishing him a good day, turning around and walking away. It can't be someone from work, he's pretty positive he would have remembered him. In fact, at any point in his recent daily life, there is no way he wouldn't be able to remember him, which means it could only be someone from the past. Could he have run into him years ago? Surely not in high school, he would have had three years to at least get his name. Could it be at a party? 

In the end, Even leaves without an answer, thinking he will piece it all together eventually. 

Or not. It doesn't matter anyway.


	2. water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even finally connects the dots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for your kind and heart-warming support. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> I hope this new chapter doesn't disappoint. See you in the comments section!

It's warm and sunny on Friday, so Marianne and him decide to go on a walk from the old power plant near Brekkedammen, a green oasis of calm. From there they take the hiking trail following the peaceful flow of the Akerselva river. The water glistens in the sunlight, the birds sing along with their steps, and the air smells like flowers and the beginning of spring - yes, Even loves a Disney cliché.

Except Marianne has been quiet for most of the day. She doesn't seem out of touch with reality though, simply lost in thought. 

Thankfully, Even knows how to fill the blank, and after relating Mikael's latest chaotic antics, she grants him a few giggles, which he gladly takes as a small victory.

"I used to take Isak swimming around here when he was little," Marianne says at some point, once the silence has settled down again and Even ran out of funny stories to tell to distract her. 

Now he's starting to understand what's been weighing on her mind all day long. Perhaps after the enthusiasm of the first moments faded, her recent discovery of the shoe box left her with a growing feeling of melancholy, instead of a lasting contentment. 

Marianne clearly misses her son.

"Yeah? Was he a good swimmer?" Even indulges her, like he always does, although his conflicted feelings regarding the boy he's never met but keeps hearing so much about are getting stronger and harder to ignore.

"Obviously. Isak is the master at swimming," Marianne replies, a hint of sarcasm in her voice he's learnt to recognize. A moment passes, then she leans towards him, half covering her mouth with her hand as she whispers to him, as if Isak might hear her, "no, the truth is, he's terrible at it. And he gets anxious when he doesn't see the bottom of the water." She pulls back, her eyes travelling from Even to the river and then back to him. "Well, maybe he's a brilliant swimmer now, what do I know?" And she sounds a little sad now.

Even has no idea when Marianne last saw her son. And what makes it even more heartbreaking is how often Marianne speaks about Isak in the present tense, before she abruptly remembers that all the certainties she had on him and all the personal details she has known about him for years might not be true anymore. His favorite dish, his comfort movie, the song he's listening to on repeat, the color that suits him the best, the name of the person he could call in the middle of the night and would always pick up the phone for him, what he likes to do on Friday nights and on Sunday mornings… Everything she knows could be outdated. Everything she knows could be wrong.

But in the end, as painful as doubt may be, not talking about him seems to hurt her far more.

So Even forces a smile, wraps his arm around hers in a friendly but professional enough gesture, and tells her, "I hope he's a better swimmer than a painter."

Marianne laughs and she sounds genuine. "No matter what he decided to do with his life, my only concern is that he's happy."

"That's such a mom thing to say," Even teases her. 

"You can ask _your_ mother, she will tell you the same thing as me."

"Like I said: such a mom thing." 

Marianne huffs at his cheekiness but she's smiling, and it's the most important. 

"So, chances are he isn't a professional swimmer nor a famous painter. What do you think he is then?"

"Would it be a mom thing to tell you he's smart and strong enough to be anything he wants to be?" She tries. Even raises an eyebrow at her in answer. " _Fine_." She rolls her eyes and he bites back a grin. "He's always been a natural when it comes to sciences."

"So maybe a doctor?" Even suggests, although, deep down, he can't help but think a doctor wouldn't treat his own mother that way.

"Maybe," she hums with a thoughtful expression.

"Or a vet."

"He's scared of fish. But maybe it could work."

"Of fish?" Even repeats, deadpan, making Marianne chuckle. "Who's afraid of fish?"

"Listen, there is a whole story behind it," she argues.

"Well, I hope so."

Marianne pushes him away playfully by the shoulder and he breaks into fits of laughter as he throws his hands in the air in surrender.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"First," she starts with her story-telling mother's voice, "what you need to know is that Isak isn't afraid of anything…"

"Obviously."

"...and he's the master at everything."

"Wow. That's impressive and perfectly believable."

"Exactly," Marianne nods, playing along. "But see, one day, seven-year-old Isak went to a Cambodian restaurant with his parents. There, they had aquariums with small fish that clean your feet and he insisted on trying it. Except, the second the fish touched his feet, he started screaming, scaring the entire restaurant to death. But no one has been as frightened as little Isak that day, that's for sure."

"Oh my God. It makes so much sense now! No wonder he's scared of water."

"He's not scared of water," Marianne giggles with him, trying but failing at staying serious when she corrects him with words that Isak must have once uttered. "He just doesn't like water and swimming is dumb and why would you ever trust fish? All they do is stare at you with their bulging eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to eat your toes."

Even has to fight his body to catch his breath and find a way to speak without choking. "I wish I could meet him," he admits out loud, and this time, he actually means it. 

This is one of these rare moments when he surprises himself hoping to have a chance to get to know Marianne's son someday.

Beside him, Marianne is no longer laughing. "Me too," she whispers. "I wish you could meet him, too. I'm sure you would like him a lot."

Even is far from convinced but he nods anyway, and they continue their walk in silence, lulled by the sound of the flowing water.

*

Even thought about the intriguing pharmacist only once, the evening of the same day he went to the pharmacy, as he sat in the tram on his way home and had nothing better to do than to try, once again, and yet in vain, to figure out why he looked so familiar.

Almost a week later, Even finally connects the dots, but only because he ends up running into the handsome pharmacist in front of Marianne's house. He's standing on the sidewalk, staring nervously at the house when Even arrives, at the same time as usual.

Judging by the look on Isak's face, he didn't mean for Even to see him. And as soon as he notices him, he turns around and walks away, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.

"Isak! Wait!" Even calls after him. 

He's ready to run if he has to; he doesn't know what's going on but there is no way he's going to let him get away without an explanation. Thankfully, Isak stops dead in his tracks which gives him plenty of time to close the distance between them.

Isak's face is flushed and his eyes are wide when Even joins him; his words, a stuttering mess. "I'm- I'm sorry. I got lost in the neighborhood and-"

"Are you serious?" Even interrupts him. He doesn't know if he should laugh or get mad at Isak's ridiculous attempt at lying his way out of the situation.

Guilt dawns on the young man's face and for a while he's speechless, mouth agape and fleeting eyes betraying his internal panic. Even almost feels bad for him, for he's clearly not the cold and heartless person he has painted inside his mind over the past few months. It does look like he's feeling something, although whether it's over neglecting his own mother or the mere fact of getting caught where he wasn't expected to be, Even can't tell.

"Do you want to get in?" Isak meets his eyes but doesn't say a word, doesn't make a move, so Even adds, genuinely asking, "Were you going to leave without saying hi to her?" After all, Even is curious to know what Isak's plan was before he showed up and made him run away.

Apparently, it wasn't the right thing to say because Isak's body tense up, hands squeezing into fists and face hardening. "Who the fuck are you to judge me?" Isak snaps at him. "I don't think my father is paying you to tell me what I should or shouldn't do."

Right. Maybe Even isn't such a bad judge of character after all.

"That's not what I meant to do," Even tries to defend himself. Sure, he can't say he hasn't been judging Isak's behavior the more he has gotten to know Marianne, but he also knows his place (or at least, he thinks he does) and he wouldn't have taken the liberty of criticizing lsak so openly, right in his face, seconds after officially meeting him for the first time.

"Whatever. You don't know anything about me, so stop acting like you do."

He isn't wrong. As much as Even feels like he already knows Isak, the truth is, he doesn't; and neither does Isak know him except for the fact his father is paying him to take care of his mother. Which means if he thinks he's going to let himself be intimidated by him, he's a fool. 

"I don't know you," Even agrees. "But I know your mother pretty well, and she misses you a lot, and I can't figure out why her own son wouldn't bother showing up every once in a while. Or at least give her a call. You know, to be decent?"

Isak flinches, taking a step back as if he's just been slapped in the face. Rage is clouding his pretty features as he scowls at Even. "What did you just say?!"

His words seem to echo through the early morning and all of sudden, Even feels uneasy. What is he even doing? Isak's anger is obviously a defense mechanism against what he perceives as an aggression from Even, and maybe that's what he's been doing. Judging him. Attacking him. And on what ground? What happened to being kind and open-minded?

He shouldn't let his emotions get the best of him.

"Shit," he blurts out. "Sorry. That was way out of line and-"

"Yeah, it was," Isak cuts him off sharply. "So if you don't want to lose your job, maybe shut the fuck up next time, alright?"

Then Isak turns his back on him and walks away, leaving Even stunned and frozen on the pavement, his thoughts a whirlwind of contradictory, inarticulate feelings.

*

Even is late when he shows up at his parents' place for lunch. He had to listen to Mikael whine about Adam not answering his messages fast enough, something that sadly became an usual Sunday morning activity for them - Mikael complaining, Even half-listening while eating his cereals in front of cartoons. Once he got rid of Mikael, he couldn't find his keys, which happens at least twice a week. And as a result, he missed his bus. 

But it turns out, his parents are worse than he is: when he arrives, the meal is far from ready, his father is making a mess of the dessert (the poor man decided to make a tiramisu but forgot it had to stay in the fridge for much longer than a couple of hours) and his mother is clearly plotting to recruit him as a sous-chef... or perhaps as a chef, so she doesn't have to take care of the starter anymore. 

"You're better at poaching the eggs than me," is her argument.

"You're literally the person who taught me how to do it," he argues back, but she just smirks and pushes the box of eggs towards him.

So he does end up as the chef. But he doesn't mind one bit.

Growing up, the kitchen has been the place where his parents and he bonded. This is where they would tell stories about their day while they cooked dinner, where they would share silly anecdotes or where they would have the important talks together. This is where he first told them about dating and then breaking up with Sonja and this is where they convinced him he could benefit from a therapist. This is where they laughed so hard Even's belly hurt and this is where he broke out in tears whenever he felt like nothing made sense anymore. 

This is where they are and have always been a family. Which is why Even loves and cherishes those moments the most; inside their tiny, impractical kitchen.

"How's Mikael doing?" His mother asks, like she always does when he drops by for lunch or dinner. She's always had a soft spot for his best friend. 

To be fair, Mikael is very good at sweet-talking moms into liking him. Too bad there isn't a career dedicated to it.

Even chuckles at the mere thought of what he's about to say. "Within a week, Mikael managed to lose his job…"

"Again?!"

"... And to get hired somewhere else."

"This kid," his father huffs. He keeps opening and closing the fridge, checking on the tiramisu every ten seconds, seemingly hoping for the desert to magically turn out good. He doesn't seem to realize how conter-productive it is but his mother and he decided a long time ago not to get involved in his father's baking experiments. It's best for everybody. "I'm surprised there is still someone in Oslo willing to take him."

"I called Karl- remember Karl? He's the owner of the movie theatre I worked at once."

"Sure! I like Karl. He's a funny guy."

"Right," Even nods. His father checks on the dessert for the hundredth time; Even exchanges an amused look with his mother. "Well I called him and I asked for a job interview for Mikael and by some miracle Mik managed to convince him to hire him. He started this week."

"And how many movies did he manage to ruin so far?" His father snickers.

"Oh, he's not allowed anywhere near the projectors. He's cleaning and if he can hold on long enough maybe they will let him sell popcorn."

"I guess Karl is a smart guy, too," his father approves.

"Maybe he will take it seriously this time," his mother says, "since it's thanks to you."

The funny thing is, Even is pretty sure Mikael is always taking it seriously, he just doesn't have the same serious standards as most people and he's also a very clumsy, chaotic person per nature... But of course, a man can dream. 

"He's trying his best," Even shrugs. He reaches out for the bread but his mother's gaze stops him halfway. "I'm starving."

"Then eat your fingers."

Some things never change. 

"Well, we can only do our best, right?" His father states as he keeps staring longingly at his failed tiramisu.

Even snorts and goes back to cutting tomatoes. 

For some reason, his mind wanders back to his terrible interaction with Isak Valtersen. It's not the first time he's reminded of it since it happened; on the contrary, he's barely managed to stop thinking about it in the last few days. Sometimes he believes he meant every word and it was right of him to make sure Isak knew what he was doing was unfair. Other times he regrets saying all those things out loud as he doesn't even know why he thought and said them. Did he want to defend Marianne or was he trying to get a reaction out of her son? Both? Neither? 

Why does it feel like he was trying to prove something to a complete stranger? Why did it feel so personal? Isak is right: he's getting paid to take care of Marianne, not to lecture him. 

"Something's on your mind, sweetheart?" His mother asks, interrupting his inner turmoil. Sometimes, it's like she can read his mind. Maybe this is some special mom superpowers.

Even sighs. "I just… Something happened a few days ago and I kind of feel guilty for it but I also can't figure out whether I was wrong or not. I don't know. It's weird."

"Tell us," his father spurs him, finally leaving the fridge alone. He leans against the kitchen countertop and steals a piece of bread, which doesn't go unnoticed by his mother's quick eyes. She glares at him, but instead of dropping the bread, he pushes the whole piece into his mouth. 

Even bites back a laugh. He can't believe he's about to ask advice from a man-child. "Alright. So… I met Marianne's son a few days ago."

"Oh, really?!" His mother turns around, looking excited. "He finally visited her? She must have been ecstatic!"

"Well, no, that's the thing. I met him but she never saw him."

They both look up at him with questioning eyes.

"I went to the usual pharmacy to pick her meds up and there was a new pharmacist. Turned out it was her son. But he didn't say anything to me, I only found out because I ran into him in front of her house a week later. He was just standing there on the sidewalk, staring… When he saw me, he tried to leave and we got a bit into an argument…"

"You? Into an argument?" His mother looks so doubtful that Even instantly feels shame washing over him.

He has to clear his throat before speaking again. "Like I said: I feel guilty now. He was very defensive and I guess I got pissed at him for acting like he was in a position to be condescending when he was objectively being an asshole for never, ever, visiting his own mother."

"Did you tell him that?"

"It was a bit more polite but… Kinda, yeah."

"Well then… It seems like he wasn't the only one acting condescending."

"What?" Even winces. He's positive this is the first time in his life he's being called condescending and it sends him into a whirlwind of soul-searching. 

"Sweetheart…" His mother calls him softly. "As a mother, I think the way you're standing up for Marianne is lovely. But as a professional, I don't think it was your place to lecture him."

"I have to agree," his father intervenes next. "This must be our catch phrase and this is super cliché but…"

"Don't judge people…" Even mumbles. If there's one thing he has to retain from his education, it's this. 

"You don't know him. You don't know what happened between his mother and him when he was younger. Sure, he's an adult now, but it doesn't erase the past. I know you care a lot about Marianne but… You didn't grow up with her," his mother says, and it makes sense, he knows it does.

Yet, his mouth is quicker than his brain. "You mean she's the one with the mental illness so surely she's responsible for her family not wanting to see her anymore. She must have done something wrong."

"Of course not, Even!" 

"You know this isn't what we meant," his father adds.

And here they are again: shame and guilt, seeping through all his pores like diseases. "Sorry…"

His father comes closer and wraps an arm around his shoulders in comfort. "I know this is hard but you can't project yourself onto her like that."

 _Touché_.

"I know", he sighs. But then, he needs to ask, "If you had the choice, would you have preferred me without…" He doesn't say the words but gestures at his head. Then he realizes how unfair his question is. "Nevermind. It's a trick question."

"Even. You're perfect and we wouldn't have you any other way. If you didn't have-" His mother mimics his previous gesture and smiles at him kindly. "Then you wouldn't be you and we love you just the way you are. You're perfect."

Even does _not_ feel like blinking a couple of treacherous tears from his eyes.

"Exactly." His father squeezes him tighter before letting go. He keeps his hands on each side of Even's shoulders though, giving him a once-over. "Or you know… You could stop growing so tall, because I'm starting to feel insecure," his father tries a joke. "But otherwise, you're my perfect son, too."

Even lets out a laugh. "Not a chance."

*

There is a photograph of Isak hanging in the hallway leading to the entrance of the house, the most recent Even has ever seen. It's been taken in the garden and he's smiling as he takes care of the barbecue. According to Marianne, it was the summer before he started high school. Which also means it was the last summer Isak spent in this house. Why? That part, Even doesn't know; Marianne never told him.

He's looking at the photograph while he puts his jacket and his shoes on. He should have left an hour ago but he stayed to make sure Marianne would eat dinner and take the anxiolytic pills he gave to her. Today hasn't been a bad day but it hasn't been a good one either. 

"Ready to go?" Marianne asks, joining him in the hallway. When their eyes meet, her mouth curves into a smile but it's weak. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"You have no reason to apologize," he reminds her and she nods.

"Be safe. Have a good night," she tells him, just like every other end of the day.

He smiles at her. 

Outside, Even lights himself a cigarette and walks to the tram stop. He thinks about sixteen-year-old Isak from the photograph, the boy who would grin at his mother taking pictures of him. He wonders what happened afterwards. From what he knows, at some point, Marianne and her husband broke up. But that's pretty much all Even knows about it, which basically means nothing.

Isak is right. His parents are right. He doesn't know anything.

Now, he wishes he knew more. He wishes he hadn't said those things to Isak either.

And right on that thought, Even looks up at the tram stop and sees Isak Valtersen, in flesh and bone, looking strangely small as he's sitting hunched on a bench. He's wearing a large grey sweatshirt with the hood on, but as soon as he notices Even, he pushes it back. 

"Hi," Isak greets him promptly, standing up from the bench with his hands shoved in the ventral pocket of his hoodie. He looks shy, almost frightened; nothing like the two other versions of him he met so far: not the polite and professional pharmacist from the first time they ran into each other, nor the defensive, angry guy who threatened to have him fired. "I was wondering if you had time to talk?" His voice is gentle, albeit a little shaky from nerves.

Even is so taken aback that he momentarily forgets he's supposed to use words to communicate. They are both silent for a while, staring at each other, Isak waiting for him to say something, Even waiting for… For his brain to start functioning again?

"I mean," Isak mumbles after the silence becomes unbearable. He looks down at his feet nervously. "I'm sorry for showing up like that. I understand if you don't want to talk to me after… After what happened last time. I just-"

"You've been waiting for me here?" Even finally remembers how to speak. Isak glances at him and nods. "You… For how long?"

"Technically, it's been two days." Even raises an eyebrow. What the hell? "Not two full days though! I didn't know when you would be done and I couldn't… I didn't feel like I could go back _there_ , so... I figured I could wait for you at the tram stop for a few hours. But I must have missed you yesterday or I left too early, I don't know. It's… Fuck, I must sound so creepy, it's such a stalker move, I'm sorry! I will just-" 

Isak is clearly panicking now and he turns around, walking away from Even for the second- no, actually, the third time since they've met. 

"Isak, wait!" Even calls after him, once again. Isak stops and peeps at him over his shoulder. Messy curls are falling back on his forehead and he has to shake his head slowly to push them back. _Soft_. "Wanna grab some coffee and talk?"

Isak hesitates, surprised. 

Then, he retraces his steps.


	3. lemon meringue pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even and Isak get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very curious to find out what you think of this new chapter... I hope you like it!
> 
> PS: A huge thank you again to [parallelcurtains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelcurtains/pseuds/parallelcurtains) for proofreading this story. ❤️

Sitting inside a half-empty coffee shop, they're both holding steaming cups between their hands, but so far, Even is the only who's been drinking. Across the table, Isak seems anxious and restless, curled up on himself to make himself smaller, switching from fiddling nervously with his fingers to tugging at the strings of his hoodie.

They've been silent ever since they sat together at a table in a far corner of the room. Isak paid for their drinks and then wouldn't meet Even's eyes again after Even thanked him for it with what he hoped at the time was a warm and reassuring smile. 

(Except said smile put Isak to silence. Mission failed. Does he have a creepy smile? Probably another thing his friends would be happy to tease him about.)

Even isn't sure if he's supposed to wait for Isak to be ready to speak or if he should give him a small push of encouragement. Sure, the whole coffee setting was his initiative, but surely Isak had a purpose when he, according to his own words, spent two days waiting for Even at a tram stop. What was the reason - that part, Even is yet to know.

So he takes another sip of his tea to give Isak another chance to break the silence. 

Isak peeks at him from under his eyelashes, tracking his movements, the path of the cup from the table to his lips, until he realizes Even caught him. Instantly, his face turns crimson and he averts his eyes away from him, staring at his untouched cup instead.

All things considered, Isak really looks like he needs a little help.

"So…" Even says. "Did you want to talk about something in particular? Did you have… questions?"

It isn't, by any means, the smoothest start he could have thought of, but Isak is giving him close to nothing to work with and it can't be more awkward than the never-ending silence they were stuck in.

Isak looks up at him and clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. Then he starts toying with his cup of coffee, the liquid having probably cooled down by now. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before he finally dares to ask him a question.

"Hm… How… Is she… Well? Okay?"

It's not much, but at least it's something. "She's doing more than okay," he explains, then can't help but add, "she's lonely, but she's alright, considering."

Isak retracts his hands and hides them under the table. He's also clearly avoiding Even's gaze again. 

"What… What does she have?"

"You don't know?"

"No…" Isak whispers; he seems embarrassed by the admission. "I mean, I had theories but I never got to know the final diagnosis. The closest I got is when you came for her prescription, for the antidepressants and antipsychotic medications, and I saw my mother's name appear on the screen."

 _Oh_. Now he understands Isak's abrupt change of demeanor back at the pharmacy better. He certainly didn't expect to meet his mother's caregiver and have to provide her medication. Did he even know his father was paying someone to take care of her? What does he know about her life today?

"Your father didn't tell you?"

"I don't speak to him anymore," Isak admits, and judging by his strained expression, his father isn't his favorite person, far from it. 

Marianne was already diagnosed and stable when Even met her; his job is to make sure she will stay that way, and if not, that she gets the help she needs as soon as possible. But if Isak doesn't know anything about her diagnosis, chances are the last time he's seen her, she wasn't at her best, which might explain his absence from her life.

Even's heart is caught in a difficult dilemma: part of him still wants to blame Isak for abandoning Marianne and for staying away for all these years; but another part knows best, another part is conscious of how scary and difficult it can be for families and friends to understand and accept what they will never feel themselves.

"Psychotic Depression," he says at last. Isak frowns at him in surprise, like maybe he thought Even's pause meant he wouldn't answer him after all. "That's her diagnosis: Major Depression with Psychotic Features."

Isak is silent for a while, probably taking the new information in. He's a pharmacist, he knows what it all means, or at least in theory. 

When he speaks again, he nods and says, more to himself than to Even, it appears, "I guess it makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Yeah, I mean, the textbook descriptions of it suit what… What I saw in the past." He shrugs it off but his eyes are a perfect reflection of the sadness submerging him at the memories it seems to bring back to him. "The hallucinations, the delusions… She used to hear voices telling her she was worthless, that she was a failure. Sometimes, she felt like she had committed a sin - she's quite religious, but you probably already know that - for no reason and she wouldn't change her mind, no matter what we told her. She said she had to be… punished for her sins and for my father's and… And mine as well." Isak's voice is wobbly, so he stops. Even wants to lean over the table and hold his hand but it would probably be very inappropriate… And Isak's hands are out of reach anyway. "So… Yeah," Isak mumbles eventually. "Psychotic Depression. Okay."

Isak turns silent again after that. He doesn't seem so nervous anymore but rather sad.

"So you… You're a pharmacist?" Even asks the first thing that comes to mind, in a desperate attempt to distract Isak from his thoughts. 

It partly works, because Isak's body relaxes just a bit and he finally takes the first sip of his coffee of the night - even if he ends up wincing and pushing it away when he realizes it has turned cold.

"For now I'm just an intern. But yes," he replies carefully.

"That's cool."

"I guess." They stare at each other and Even doesn't know what he's supposed to say or do anymore. "Sorry," Isak sighs with a shy smile. 

"For what?" 

"For being so… Weird. I'm shit at making small talk but right now I might be even worse than usual."

Even chuckles. He can feel the tension leave both of their bodies. "It's okay. It's probably not the best time for that anyway."

"Maybe another time?" Isak suggests and Even can't help it, he has to bite back an unintended grin. He knows he shouldn't feel so excited at the prospect of seeing Isak again, but he does, even if he can't decide how he's feeling about him. It's all too confusing. Is it resentment? Curiosity? Empathy? Consideration?

… Giddiness? 

"Sure. That sounds good."

Isak smiles at him again, even if it's only for a second, and- alright. Giddiness, too. No doubt about it.

Nonetheless, Isak turns serious soon after. He's pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie now - his nervousness is back. "Will you… Would you mind keeping me updated on her? Please?" Isak asks, his voice small and unsure, and Even feels like someone pinched his heart.

Long gone is the cold, aggressive young man he met a few days ago. Tonight, he has witnessed Isak's façade crumbling down and Even can tell he's dealing with years worth of guilt. Whether this is the reason why he won't visit his mother or not, he can't say; but he knows one thing for sure: Isak cares. He still cares about his mother.

And Even has greatly misjudged him.

"I can do that," he agrees in the end.

They make sure to exchange numbers before parting ways.

*

**Even**

_So this is my first report message, I guess. Your mother is doing well. We cooked and then we went for a walk this afternoon._

**Isak Valtersen**

_That's great to hear, the weather was nice today. Thank you for messaging me._

*

**Even**

_We went to the Astrup Fearnley Museum of Modern Art today. I thought I was into art but it's nothing compared to your mother. She knows so much!_

_If it wasn't clear enough from my previous text, everything's good._

**Isak Valtersen**

_Definitely sounds like her._

_Thank you, I'm glad she's doing well._

*

Every once in a while, Even indulges himself with a few drinks at a party, or, like today, sharing a joint with his best friend, lying on the ground of their tiny apartment, because when you're high, even the hard floor feels like a mattress made of clouds. 

How did they end up in this position in the first place? Even isn't sure anymore.

The thing is, when you try to avoid alcohol and weed or any substances of the kind, and then consume again, you become what is commonly called… A lightweight. 

Mikael is rambling about something Even's foggy brain can't keep up with when he hears a familiar sound coming from his phone. Without moving his body, Even's hand crawls on the floor, until he feels his phone under his fingers.

 _(Not too bad for a lightweight!_ He congrats himself, although it probably doesn't play in his favor. Talking to himself can't be a good sign.)

He unlocks his phone, checks his messages and almost chokes on his own saliva when he sees Isak's name on the display.

**Isak Valtersen**

_lol are you alright?_

Even pauses. Why wouldn't he be?

Then he notices the message sent from his own phone a few minutes ago: _My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard._

"Mikael!"

"What?" Mikael is startled, and lost, so lost that his first reflex is to look around the room, as if Even isn't lying right by his side. 

Good to know someone is far worse than him.

"Did you use my phone to message Isak dumb song lyrics?!"

"What?" He repeats, his eyes finally focusing on Even. He blinks once, twice, three times… "Oh!" He exclaims, and then, "yeah," followed by a shrug.

"What the fuck?!"

"I was trying to help you!"

"Help me?! For what?"

"I thought you said you liked him! You had a crush and all!"

Even can barely believe it. His best friend is a menace and he's making no sense whatsoever. "I never said something like that, ever!"

"Really?" Mikael asks, looking genuinely confused, until realization dawns on him. "Oh, that's right. That's my personal theory on the two of you."

Even groans but gives up on trying to make sense of Mikael's actions. He should rather focus on fixing the mess he created.

He types back in a hurry: _I'm so sorry! My roommate is high and he thought it was a funny thing to do behind my back…_

**Isak** **Valtersen**

_Does it mean you're high too?_

"Fuck," Even mutters. He definitely is but it wouldn't be very professional of him to admit it to the son of his patient, and of the man who's paying him every month to be a responsible caregiver, would it? Even if Isak is a couple of years younger than him and probably smokes far more often than he does.

So, _Nope_ , ends up being his very convincing answer.

**Isak Valtersen**

_No sober person would ever use the word "nope"._

Even scoffs and replies: _Why are you judging words like that? "Nope" is a great word!_

**Isak Valtersen**

_It's not even a real word!_

Even doesn't know why they're having this conversation but he just knows he's currently smiling at his phone as if it's the most entertaining exchange of messages he's ever had.

**Isak Valtersen**

_Anyway. All I'm saying is… Next time you get high, don't rub it in my face and instead invite me in._

For a second, Even considers inviting him right then and there. Thankfully, the not-foggy part of his brain remembers Mikael finished their weed and it would be too much of a desperate, needy move. 

And also… Why would he even want to invite Isak in the first place?

(What if Mikael… No. No way. Mikael never said one true thing in his entire existence.)

"Ha! I knew it! You look like such a whipped dork right now, you do have a crush on that boy!" Mikael starts yelling, almost as if he could read his mind.

"I do not!"

"Dude," Mikael sits up on his forearms. He seems strangely less high all of sudden. "You told me everything about your encounters." That's right and Even is regretting it already. "And I didn't want to be too straightforward with you because you seemed far too in denial…" Even had no idea his best friend was capable of censoring himself but alright… That's good to know. "But I'm high, so I don't care anymore. Man, that's some heavy sexual tension going on between you two!"

Even is left dumbfounded at the declaration. Is the weed giving him some serious hallucinations or is it really a conversation he's presently having on the floor of his shared apartment? "What are you even talking about?!" 

"Did you want to pin him and kiss him senselessly when he yelled at you and threatened to have you fired?"

"No! Shut up!" Even retorts and hates how he feels himself blushing at the thought. Kissing Isak? How absurd!

(How… strangely appealing.)

"Did he suggest a deal - you're being good to him if you know what I mean…" He winks. "And you'll keep your job?"

"Mikael. This is sexual harassment. This isn't sexy or funny," Even deadpans.

It makes Mikael think for a second. "... Alright, you're right, my bad. But he must have thought about the nice things you could do to him, why would he wait for you for hours otherwise? And then he makes puppy eyes at you to coax you gently?" Mikael smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. Even wishes he had a pillow at a close proximity to throw at his face.

"You're so wrong. I think he's just feeling sad and guilty about his mom and he isn't on good terms with his father either. Maybe he just needs someone to talk to," Even argues back, but as he says the words, he isn't sure whether he's telling them to convince Mikael... Or himself.

"Oh, that's perfect, boy has daddy issues."

"That's not what I said I-"

"Did he ask you to be his daddy?"

"Mikael!" Even jabs a finger at him, poking him in the ribs. 

Of course, all it does is cause Mikael to burst out laughing like a cheap remake of the Joker.

Even chooses to ignore him; instead, he redirects his attention to Isak's unanswered message. What if Mikael is partly (and as painful as it is for him to consider the possibility of his best friend not speaking complete nonsense for once) right? Is there something slightly romantic going on between them or is it simply Isak having a hard time dealing with his mother's mental illness? Is he finding some kind of comfort in Even because he's the person closest to his mother? 

But then, there's been their short exchange of glances at the pharmacy and their brief, featherlight brush of fingers, mere moments before Isak found out who he was. There's also been Isak's flustered behavior around him at the coffee shop as well as his longing eyes on him, until Even caught him staring and his cheeks turned red. Does it mean Isak is attracted to him?

Does it mean Even likes him back just as much?

Even rereads their messages and lets out a sigh. Just minutes ago, they've clearly been flirting, and although he wasn't exactly sober, it came so easily to him he doubts it didn't mean anything.

"Ugh, fuck you Mikael," he mumbles to himself.

"What?" His best friend groans, but he doesn't sound like he actually understood Even's words. Mikael squirms until he manages to stand upright. "Cookies! I need cookies!" He announces before heading for the kitchen.

Even stares at Isak's message for long seconds, before he makes a decision: Mikael doesn't know shit. It's up to him to make it whatever he wants it to be.

And if he wants to speak to Isak, if he wants to see him again eventually, then let it be.

 _Gotcha. I will make sure to make room for you next time_ , he sends back.

Isak's reply arrives barely seconds later, almost like he's been waiting for Even's text - which is a completely absurd and unreal idea, of course.

**Isak Valtersen**

_You better._

*

**Even**

_Your mother was in a good mood today. We went to the market. She ran into one of her friends. Inge, I think._

**Isak**

_Oh no, don't trust Inge, she's the meanest woman ever! She used to be our neighbor. Whenever my ball would end up in her yard, she would never give it back… Or always bursted!_

**Even**

_Hahaha, but maybe it was your fault for being such a bad football player…_

**Isak**

_How dare you?! I'm the master at football!_

**Even**

_Sure :')_

*

**Isak**

_How is she doing today?_

**Even**

_She's okay._

**Isak**

_Just okay?_

**Even**

_Just okay..._

_But don't worry, we all have 'just okay' days._

**Isak**

_Okay..._

*

**Isak**

_What about today?_

**Even**

_It's rainy so we're painting. I will send you a picture later if you want._

**Isak**

_So does it mean she's more than okay?_

_And yeah, I would like that. Thank you, Even._

**Even**

_Yes, more than okay :)_

_You're welcome_

*

**Isak**

_So some dude came to the pharmacy and asked me for methamphetamine._

**Even**

_For real?! Did he think you were his dealer or something?_

_Is it Breaking Bad 2.0? Are you the Norwegian Heisenberg?_

**Isak**

_I had to tell him I'm more of a Pablo Escobar kind of guy._

**Even**

_First, you can't have preferences when it comes to drug dealers, it's weird._

_Second, this is lowkey the gayest thing anyone has ever said about Escobar._

**Isak**

_First, I didn't mean it like that but what if I have preferences anyway? You can't stop me._

_Second, I'm gay, so it makes sense._

**Even**

_#Iamgayandgrumpy_

**Isak**

_#Iampanandnotfunny_

**Even**

_How did you know?_

_About the first part_

_Because we both know I'm hilarious, you're a liar Valtersen!_

**Isak**

_K_

_I saw the pins on your jacket_

**Even**

_Ha! #Iamgayandgrumpyandsmart_

**Isak**

_Sounds like me_

_#Iampanandfunnyandnice_

_There, I fixed it_

**Even**

_Thank you :)_

*

**Even**

_We made a lemon meringue pie today and your mother said it's your favorite. Look! [attached picture]_

**Isak**

_It looks delicious. Now I'm hungry and stuck at work for 6 more hours :(_

**Even**

_Poor baby :)_

**Isak**

🖕

**Even**

_I could stop by on my way home and bring you a piece though._

**Isak**

_Stop teasing me!_

**Even**

_I'm serious._

**Isak**

_Really?_

_No, but it's fine, you must be tired and you have better things to do after work._

**Even**

_Not at all. And I need to buy a pack of XXL condoms anyway._

**Isak**

_Oh my God_

_You're the worst!_

**Even**

_Hahaha_

_But seriously, can I stop by later?_

**Isak**

_Yeah, of course_

_You can :)_

*

Even realizes he's been dying for an excuse to see Isak again for days now. Why is that - he isn't ready to face the answer, doesn't want to overthink it when he's actually having a good time. Against all his previous expectations, Isak and he get along more than well, and so their daily exchange of messages quickly became a soothing and welcomed distraction in his life. 

Sometimes, he feels guilty for having Isak's attention when Marianne doesn't. But Isak has been taking interest in his mother, asking questions about her, which Even wants to take as an improvement. Hopefully, soon, he will be able to tell Marianne that Isak called and said he would stop by her house.

In the meantime, Even is the one stopping by at Isak's work, with a plastic tub containing a large piece of Isak's favorite pie, like he said he would. 

When Even gets inside the pharmacy, there is a line of people at the counter, so he wanders among the shelves waiting for the place to empty. He pauses where he can watch Isak work, eyebrows knitted in concentration, as he listens to both the customers and the man in the white coat standing beside him, probably his supervisor. 

After a dozen of minutes, the last customer leaves and Isak's supervisor walks away to the back of the pharmacy. It's just him and Isak now.

"Hey," Even greets him. 

Isak looks startled as he finally notices him, emerging from behind a shelf. "Oh, I didn't see you," Isak says, casting him a bashful grin.

Even smiles back as he closes the distance between them, until he reaches the counter separating them and drops off the tupperware on top of it. "Here's a delivery for Dr. Isak Valtersen."

With a roll of his eyes, Isak retorts, "I'm not a doctor." Then, he glances at the pie and his cheeks turn slightly flushed at the sight, at the evidence of what Even did for him. "Thank you. It's very... sweet."

Even waves at the pie and says, "Not too sweet, I hope." Which Isak groans at. "What? You said I was funny, you can't take it back now."

"I was only trying to be nice," Isak counterbacks. 

"Oh, you're so sweet," Even cooes at him, and although Isak is pretending to be exasperated by his (terrible, Even is fully aware of it) jokes, he can't hide the blush coloring his features.

Being with one another weirdly feels like being fifteen all over again. But once again, Even doesn't want to linger on the thought for too long, doesn't want to know what it means for them. 

If he wants to be silly and dorky around a young man he likes, nothing's stopping him.

*

**Isak**

_Thank you for stopping by :)_

_And for the delicious piece of pie you brought._

**Even**

_Your mom did most of the work_

_But sure, anytime :)_

*

A couple of weeks ago, Even had to sit there and listen while Dr. Haugen talked about his decision to lower Marianne's medications dosage. It wasn't his place to say anything; after all, his job was to take notes of it and to follow the professional's instructions. But the thing is, he knows all too well how scary it can be to bring any kind of changes to a routine that has been working for months. It's impossible to know whether the changes will backfire or not.

Sadly, for Marianne, it seems like it does.

She's not having an episode, she doesn't seem out of touch with reality, but she's exhausted and she doesn't feel like talking, or eating much, or even less getting up and doing something - anything, really. Even managed to convince her to leave her bed in favor of the couch, because at least it means she isn't lying in the dark locked in her bedroom, and he read a book of poetry he knows she likes until she fell asleep halfway through the afternoon. 

Obviously, Even called her psychiatrist to update him. 

And obviously, he told him it didn't sound too alarming so there was nothing he could do for now. Marianne simply needed to get used to her new dosage. Simply - Even knew there was nothing simple about it, for having been through similar experiences in the past himself, but he didn't bother pointing it out to Dr. Haugen. It would be a waste of time. 

Instead, Even made an early appointment with Marianne's therapist, just in case she would agree to go in a couple of days. It wasn't much, but at least Even didn't sit and watch obediently, hoping for the best. Not like Terje, whom he contacted as well, to explain the new changes in Marianne's medication, her recent mood as well as the psychiatrist's opinion on it. _OK. Thank you for the information_ , has been his generic and emotionless reply. As if Even was just reporting the weather forecast to him.

The past couple of weeks, it became a habit for Even to message Isak to keep him informed on Marianne's mood and their daily activities. Today though, with everything going on, it has slipped his mind, and he only got reminded of it when his phone lit up with new messages from Isak.

**Isak**

_No news today?_

_Is everything okay?_

It made Even pause for quite some time. He didn't know if he should tell Isak, if he would only make him worry over something that wouldn't even be a thing the next day. Maybe Marianne really just needed some rest, and nothing more.

Still, Even promised he would keep him updated, and so he did.

**Even**

_Not exactly a good day but I don't want you to worry too much for now. Dr. Haugen, your mother's psychiatrist, decided to lower her medication's dosage so she's having a bit of a hard time getting used to it. She's mostly sleepy though so it's nothing too alarming. Okay?_

Isak's answer never came and Even felt equally disappointed on Marianne's behalf as on his own. He really wanted Isak to be different from his father, even if it wasn't his place to expect anything from anyone.

So he moved on with his day. He had more important things to deal with.

Usually, Even leaves before dinner, but considering the circumstances, he decides to stay a bit longer, cooking and making sure Marianne eats something before taking her back to her room.

"I'm sorry," Marianne whispers as she lies back in bed. That kind of guilt, this feeling of failure over having no control over your own body, over your own brain, making the most basic tasks like getting up, showering and eating abnormally difficult, Even knows it all too well. He understands.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Even reminds her, and smiles at her, hoping to bring her some kind of comfort, even if he also knows it's very unlikely. It's between her and her own mind now.

With a sigh of resignation, Marianne pulls the blanket over herself and then turns her back on him.

Even doesn't know how long he stays in her room, sitting by her side on the edge of the bed. He probably would have stayed longer if he hadn't felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, if he hadn't checked his phone and seen Isak's messages.

**Isak**

_I'm outside_

_I'm so sorry_

_I can't go in_

Even leaves the bedroom as quietly as possible, and once he's in the hallway, he runs outside. He doesn't realize what he's feeling is relief until he sees Isak in flesh and bone, standing on the sidewalk and staring at the house, the same way he did the first time they officially met.

The closer Even gets though, the more obvious it is that Isak isn't okay, a mixture of guilt and sorrow written all over his face. 

_He cares_ , he's reminded. He's nothing like his father. How could he have doubted him?

"I wanted to try, I really did but-" Isak starts but never finishes. His voice is shaking, breaking at the end of his last words. He takes a deep breath to compose himself before meeting Even's eyes. Remorseful green irises meeting devoted blue gaze. "I'm sorry."

Even doesn't know what comes over him but he takes one, two, three steps, and then he's hugging Isak, arms wrapped tightly around his body, a hand trailing up and down his back in comfort.

And Isak… Isak hugs him back, just as willingly, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

"Do you want to hang out? We can go to my place," Even hears himself suggesting, lips brushing Isak's curls.

And, "yes, okay," Isak replies, a fragile whisper close to his ear.


	4. pillow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even takes Isak home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so sorry for the delay. As some of you may know, stuff happened, and I left Twitter, perhaps the SKAM fandom as a whole too, and I didn't feel like writing anymore... But then I started missing my boys and here is chapter 4 after all. I'm not giving up writing just yet. Nope. 
> 
> It's a little bit shorter, I think, compared to the previous chapters, but I hope what's in it will make up for it. Don't forget to share your thoughts, I'm very curious ;)
> 
> I also added titles to the chapters but I guess it's just a detail, haha.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to my amazing, supportive friend [parallelcurtains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelcurtains/pseuds/parallelcurtains) for proofreading and editing this fic. ❤️ Don't forget to go check out her new Christmas fic: [All Hearts Come Home for Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013310/chapters/68620710)! Trust me, you won't regret it.

When they arrive at his place, Even makes a quick path, with Isak by his side, to his bedroom before Mikael has time to intercept them. He isn't ashamed of Mikael, even less of Isak, but maybe a part of him wants to keep Isak all to himself for now. And after what happened in front of Marianne's house, he can only assume Isak isn't in the mood to make small talk with Even's weird and intrusive roommate. 

They were silent throughout the tram ride, and they remain so now, as Isak's careful eyes examine his bedroom in detail. It's quite messy, but nothing out of the ordinary, Even isn't exactly the tidy kind. Thankfully he can't spot any dirty underwear lying on the floor, only a couple of sweatshirts and sweatpants he only ever wears at home. His bed is unmade, but Isak doesn't linger on the sight of it. Instead, he walks around the room, stopping every once in a while to have a closer look at the walls.

While most of his storage space as well as his desk are crumbling under his art supplies - tubes of acrylic paint, boxes of watercolour paint, unclear water cups, dirty rags, brushes of all kinds, pencils, black markers, stacks of drawing paper and sketchbooks -, the walls belong to the result of his drawing and painting activities. 

"Did you draw this?" Isak asks as he pauses in front of a cartoon panel Even made months ago. 

"Yeah."

"It's good."

Few people have seen his drawings in the past years. Apart from Mikael, who invites himself into his room whenever he wants, the boys very occasionally, and maybe one or two one-night stands who spent the night and might have noticed them on their way out, he doesn't show them to anyone anymore - not voluntarily, at least. It's something he keeps to himself, a remnant of his teenage dreams that belong to the past, a hobby he intends to keep that way.

Still, Isak's words revive a certain pride that he thought had disappeared. 

"Thanks," he grins bashfully.

"Really funny," Isak adds and actually looks up at him with a new-found smile. "Did you show some of them to my mom? I know she would love them."

"Yeah, we draw and paint together sometimes."

"A match made in heaven," Isak comments, his eyes still travelling over the walls, from heavy, mysterious paintings to modest, sarcastic drawings. "She tried to teach me but I guess I've always been too much like my father." In a matter of seconds, his mood shifted again. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, filled with regrets and lingering resentment. Even wonders what could be the meaning behind all of it. Is it really about a few pencil strokes on a sheet of paper? "We both suffer from a cruel lack of creativity," Isak explains and Even walks closer to him, slowly, until, if he dared to, he could take his hand into his own. But he doesn't. "My father thinks it's a virtue.  _ Art is foolish, Isak. Focus on tangible things _ ." Isak turns his head and meets Even's gaze. "He's a fucking asshole," he concludes with a shrug, and he forces a smile that looks nothing but sad and weary. 

"Your mom doesn't love you any less because of it," Even says, and this time, he goes for Isak's hand, but Isak withdraws from him before he can touch him. He doesn't seem to have noticed Even's attempt to comfort him though. He turns his back on him and resumes his meticulous examination of his bedroom.

Even remains quiet until Isak speaks again. "A movie nerd, too?" 

Now, Isak is standing in front of a shelf full of DVDs, a collection he has been cultivating since he was a child. As far back as he can remember, he has always been fascinated by these rectangle boxes that hold whole universes inside them, stories and romances that fascinated him as much as he sometimes envied them. When he needed it the most, they've been his favorite escape from reality.

"Maybe," Even snorts. "For the longest time, I wanted to be a filmmaker, so I figured I needed to learn from the best."

Isak tilts his head to read the spine of one of the DVDs. "Baz Luhrmann?" He smirks.

"Like I said: the best."

"Of course," Isak chuckles, and although it's clear he's dying to make fun of Even's taste, at least he's laughing, finally, and Even will let him disrespect his teenage years favorite filmmaker anytime if it means he gets to see him smile again. "So you wanted to be a filmmaker. Why?"

"I think I liked the idea of having the power to create stories. Brand new lives, sort of. Lives and journeys that had nothing to do with mine."

"Isn't that the perk of being an actor, more than being a filmmaker? Because as an actor, you get to be someone else. You get to have this other life for a while."

"You think I could have been an actor? You picture my face in movies?" Even teases and Isak's cheeks redden.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He rolls his eyes to try to look composed in front of him. "But don't pretend you don't know the kind of face you have."

Even beams and takes a few steps closer, using his slight height advantage to hover over Isak. "And what kind of face do I have?"

"Shut up," Isak mutters, but despite his words, he's grinning just as much. "Norwegian James Dean, or whatever. You're a goddamn giraffe, you could be a model, too. And you know it!"

"I don't," Even shakes his head, but then decides to let Isak breath, so he takes a step back and resumes their previous talk. "An actor does whatever the filmmaker tells him to do. The filmmaker is the person who has control. And when I was younger there was nothing I've wanted more than to be in control."

"To be in control," Isak repeats, meditative. "I understand the need to be in control of your own life, but what about the others?"

Even frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Like, do you really want to decide for them too? Isn't it a lot? It's like- a huge responsibility. What if they don't want the same thing as you? Can you live with the knowledge you're going against their will?"

Isak's questions take Even by surprise. Could he? Certainly not. What he wanted was to direct his own life, and not have fate or other people making decisions for himself. Knowing what it feels like to be powerless, he would never wish it for, or worse, force it on anyone else.

"I mean, not in my daily life…" Even pauses. They were talking about filmmaking. Why does it sound like it's about so much more now? "Did you ever have to decide for someone else?"

Isak looks away again, like he's trying to hide his face from Even. "No. People usually decide for me and I- I follow." 

Even is dying to ask more questions, to find out if it has anything to do with Marianne, with the reason why Isak can't bring himself to enter her house. He brought Isak here to comfort him though; he wanted to spend time with him, to cheer him up, and surely mentioning his absence in Marianne's life will have the opposite effect.

"It was a long time ago anyway," Even shrugs it off and Isak relaxes, sensing he won't have to explain himself further. In return, Isak offers him a thankful, albeit shy, smile.

"Why did you decide to become a caregiver, instead of a filmmaker then?" Isak asks before an awkward silence has time to settle, fingers running on the edge of the shelf as he inspects the rest of the DVDs. 

It's been a journey more than a simple decision, but the same way Isak isn't ready to share years of secretive family issues, Even doesn't feel like getting into the whole bipolar announcement. It can wait. 

"I wanted to take care of people, it's as simple as that," he replies eventually, which is the truth. He's wanted to take care of people, instead of the opposite, and maybe to some extent, it meant finally taking control, too. 

"Simple... It's never been something simple to me," Isak whispers. 

"No?" Even says softly.

This time, he's met with nothing but silence and Even understands it belongs, for now, to the unspeakable, and he decides to respect it. Instead, he leans over Isak and picks up a DVD from his shelf.

"How about a movie?"

Isak seems remorseful as he nods in agreement, playing along with Even's easy escape he's offering to him, until his eyes fall on the DVD and he groans, "fuck off! Rebel without a cause?"

"You seem to have a thing for James Dean so…" Even teases, already walking away with the DVD in his hand. 

Usually, he would suggest they watch it on the TV in the living room, but it means Mikael could show up at any moment, and he loves his best friend, but he still hasn't changed his mind on keeping Isak for himself tonight. His computer and his bed will do.

"I don't have a thing for James Dean!" Isak huffs. 

"Only Norwegian James Dean?"

Isak hesitates as his eyes study Even's face carefully, as if he's making sure they have the same understanding of what it would mean for the both of them. Once he seems to have found what he was looking for, his mouth slowly curves into a half-smile. "Only Norwegian James Dean."

Maybe he shouldn't but Even loves what he hears a whole lot.

*

Isak didn't make it through ten minutes in the movie before dozing off. After the turmoil of emotions he's gone through today, Even can't blame him, and he's careful not to wake him up when he walks out of his bedroom on his tiptoes, leaving the young man asleep in his bed. Before disappearing, he made sure to cover him with a blanket, and instead of disturbing his slumber, it had Isak turn on his side to bury his face deeper into Even's pillow. Comfortably settled, he let out a content sigh and then- nothing. 

He was fast asleep.

Even heads for the kitchen where he's surprised to find not only Mikael making a messy attempt at cooking what looks like Even's famous scrambled eggs, but also Adam, sitting perched on one of the kitchen counters, head bumping to the rhythm of the music coming out of his phone.

"Good evening," Even greets his friends who look up and grin at him in perfect synch.

"Ah! I've been waiting for you to show up, young man!" Mikael exclaims, his voice sounding strangely like his father's when he was about to scold him as a child. But it's still Mikael, and therefore Even can't possibly take him seriously.

"What's up?" He asks, and exchanges a quick look with Adam who shrugs, attesting it's only another one of Mikael's dramatic acts.

Mikael leaves the eggs to fry in the pan and walks to him, shaking a wooden spatula right in his face.

"Who are you hiding in your bedroom?" He asks. Adam snorts. Even bites back a smile and fakes discomfort. To live with Mikael means to indulge him every once in a while. "What? You think I didn't hear you sneaking in with a boy?" His best friend keeps going, bringing two assertive hands on his hips. The spatula gets caught in his t-shirt, but he doesn't seem worried about getting his outfit dirty - after all, he's seldom the one doing laundry.

(Neither of them, to be honest. Even has yet to learn not to forget the laundry inside the washing machine. Young adults typical struggle, he assumes.)

"Jealous?" Even teases back, raising a challenging eyebrow at him. His eyes travel from Mikael to Adam, who's too busy typing on his phone to notice he's turned into the main subject of their friendly quarrel, back to Mikael. His best friend gives him a stern and slightly panicked look, checking on Adam in return. Even snickers and Mikael glares at him, his mouth moving in a silent " _ shut up, traitor! No, you shut up! _ " until Adam interrupts their childish fight.

"Something's burning."

"Fuck!" 

Mikael runs back to his burned scrambled eggs, swears a few more times as he pulls the pan out of the stove and then proceeds to whine about his ruined work until Adam leans towards him and pats him on the shoulder in support. Mikael's mouth switches into a bright beam.

"Whipped," Even mouths.

Mikael sticks his tongue out at him in answer.

Perhaps living together isn't exactly helping them to grow up, but the least one can say is that they never get bored.

"So, Even, who is this mystery guy? Aren't you going to introduce us?" Adam asks, discarding his phone to focus on him.

"It's  _ Isak _ ," Mikael says in a teasing voice before he remembers he isn't in a position to be cocky and so, quickly gets back to his eggs.

"His name is Isak, yeah. It's… It's a weird story, I guess. He's the son of a lady I'm taking care of at the moment. I'm not sure what we are doing though… He's sleeping, the introduction will have to wait."

"Oh, he's sleeping now," Mikael can't help but intervene again, smirking.

Even decides it's time for payback. "What about you? What kind of date night is this?" 

Behind Adam, Mikael freaks out, gesturing wildly at him to presumably beg him to stop, and in his chaotic behavior, drops the pan into the sink in a deafening bang. Oblivious and pretty used to Mikael's antics, Adam doesn't bulge, doesn't even turn around to check on the mess Mikael is making.

"Well, Mik was supposed to make me something to eat, but I don't think I'm eating anytime soon," he replies casually. "I suppose we will watch a movie or play on the PS4 later."

"I'm pretty sure all the noise must have woken up Isak by now, but I can make sure Mikael doesn't poison you," Even chuckles.

"I can cook goddamn eggs myself just fine, thank you very much!" Mikael argues, sensing he's the one being turned into a joke for once.

"Can you? Are you sure you want to let  _ Adam  _ starve right there?" Even keeps provoking him, taking a certain pleasure in making Mikael lose it. It's a rare opportunity. 

"Listen, smartass," his best friend faces him, threatening him with the spatula again. "You go back taking care of your crush, I can take care of mine just fine, alright?!"

They freeze at Mikael's words right away, eyes turning wide and mouths left ajar. 

"What?" Adam's surprised voice pierces the heavy silence that has fallen over the kitchen. 

Even glances at Adam shortly, but he's already looking at Mikael with intense eyes, and Even can't tell what it is exactly, but he has a feeling it's far from being the end of the world for his best friend, on the contrary.

Which is why he says, "alright, alright. I will leave you two alone, I'm just grabbing a glass of water for  _ my  _ crush."

He does as he said, ignoring Mikael's distressed silent calls for him to stay by his side, and then exits the kitchen in a matter of seconds. It's slightly painful to leave his best friend in such an uncomfortable situation but Even is certain he's doing the right thing.

The last thing he hears before stepping inside his bedroom again is Mikael's shuddering voice speaking, "I can explain."

Followed by Adam's soft and gentle, "no need."

Even grins and closes the door behind him. 

*

As expected, Isak is blinking awake when Even steps inside the bedroom. He's half-way through clumsily sitting up, his back leaning against the wall behind him. He holds on to the blanket, seemingly reluctant at the idea of leaving the warmth of the covers. It's been barely an hour since he fell asleep but his hair looks as dishevelled as Even imagines it would be after a full night of tossing around in bed. 

In the second it takes Isak to react to the sound of him walking in, Even notices the younger man is still clutching at his pillow, far more tightly than he does with the blanket, with something akin to possessiveness, and Even can feel a strange flutter of giddiness rising inside his body.

Their eyes meet; Isak's soft and sleepy, Even's fond and curious.

"Sorry for the noise," Even says. "My roommate slash best friend is trying to impress our friend slash his crush by cooking but he's anything but a human disaster in the kitchen so…"

Isak rubs his eyelids and chuckles, "it's alright."

"Also, I think they are currently making out as we speak."

"Oh, so they are that kind of friends."

"They weren't, but I think it's finally happening."

Isak smiles self-consciously, looking a bit lost. Even sits down on the edge of the bed, the closest to Isak he can get without invading his personal space. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, so much better. I'm sorry for falling asleep on you though…"

"It's fine."

"I haven't slept very well lately," he admits in a whisper, looking down at his hands resting on top of the blanket, fingers playing nervously. 

The more they've gotten to know each other over the past weeks, the less cautious Isak has been around him. But tonight, sleepy enough to let his guards down, it's the most open and vulnerable Even has ever seen him.

"You can spend the night if you want. I don't mind," he offers, as if Isak's emotional and guilty aura has all of sudden made him bolder. 

Isak looks startled at his proposition, but his surprise quickly turns into shyness again, judging by the crimson glow spreading on his face. 

"I shouldn't impose myself on you like that," he says, except his eyes are telling Even an entirely different story. 

Somehow, their bodies have started leaning closer to one another without making any conscious decision, and now Even has a perfect view of every mole scattered across Isak's skin, along his cheek, in the corner of his lips. Nonetheless, it only occurs to him how little space is left between them when Isak's gaze drops on his lips, a short moment of weakness that lasts barely a second, but it's long enough for Even to catch it, and to cling to it like the last spark of light in the darkness.

"Stay," Even breathes. Just a word. One simple word, and yet, he can feel the weight of it creeping between them. He waits, stares at Isak carefully, almost desperately, although a part of him is strangely serene, as if no matter what he says, no disastrous consequences are possible, not when it involves the young man sitting in front of him.

And finally, with a hint of a smile, Isak nods. "Okay." They don't move, neither their bodies nor their eyes. Even wonders what sight they make, if they would be worthy of some longing lovers painting, of-

Lovers. That's a dangerous thought. And a very presumptuous thought, too.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Isak asks softly. 

"Always."

Isak hesitates, exhales, makes a silent, irrevocable decision, like he's getting ready to jump off a cliff. "I've been wondering what your bed feels like," he confesses and Even stops breathing. "And what your pillow feels like." 

"My pillow?"

"It's important," he says simply, not giving any more information on the subject. 

A glimpse of a distant memory comes back to Even though, a faded conversation he had with Marianne, another tale she shared about her son, and about a blue pillow he couldn't sleep without as a child, and he wonders if it has anything to do with it.

Without breaking eye contact, Isak's hand runs on Even's pillow, until it falls back onto the bed and stops its journey once it reaches Even's hand, fingertips grazing. 

Even grins. "Okay. So what do you think?"

"I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I guess I could get used to it."

Even feels dizzy, but he can't tell if it's from the lack of air after holding his breath for too long or if it's just the way Isak makes him feel. He doesn't hate it; that, he knows for sure. "It's yours if you want it." He pauses. Adds, "It seems like you've given a lot of thoughts to my bed. And my pillow."

"Maybe I've been hoping for you to invite me someday," Isak says with a nervous, quivering voice.

And it strikes Even, how brave Isak is, despite everything. He has a dozen reasons not to be vulnerable in front of him, not to speak such words, not to show himself as he really is to someone who could hurt him if he wanted to, who judged him wrongly in the past, and yet he does it, without any trace of hesitation.

Isak Valtersen is, without a doubt, the most mesmerizing person he has ever met. 

"Maybe I've been hoping for you to ask me to stay, too," the younger man adds, and maybe Even hasn't been presumptuous after all.

It feels only natural then, that their bodies are drawn to each other like magnets, their faces so close they can brush their noses together. They pull back, make eye contact, break into one, two bashful smiles. Even raises an eyebrow as a wordless question, Isak tilts his chin softly, like an invitation Even is happy to answer to. Their noses meet again, and soon after, so do their lips.

It's a featherlight touch, a caress to the heart, and Even knows for a fact he has never been kissed with so much care and sweetness before. Not with such a gentle embrace meant to mend two broken, lonely hearts craving to be loved and cared for.

And when Isak melts against his lips in a relieved sigh, closes the short distance between them by putting a tentative hand on Even's arm to lean onto, Even has a feeling no one has ever kissed Isak that way in the past either.

So he cradles Isak's face tenderly, maps his lips carefully with his tongue, and decides right there and then that as long as Isak will let him, he wants to be the one healing his body, heart and soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I don't update until then, for those who celebrate it: I wish y'all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! For the others (and everybody, actually), take care of yourself and your loved ones.
> 
> Hopefully 2021 will be kinder to us. It's Evak special year after all. ❤️


	5. message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do we really know the people we love and care for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Hi? Remember me still?
> 
> So, I have no excuse for how long it took to update, except the fact I felt uninspired and like I drifted apart from the SKAM fandom. But no worries, I still love the show and Evak with my whole heart, and I'm planning to finish this fic (as well as my other wip AU). There is one chapter left for this fic after all! Wow. The end is close.
> 
> I'm a bit nervous regarding this chapter tbh. I can't decide if I like the final result. But I'm not objective, so I will leave you to it. Hope you can enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you again to my lovely, dear friend [parallelcurtains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelcurtains/pseuds/parallelcurtains) for proofreading and editing this fic. ❤️

The thing about people is that no matter how much time you're spending with them, how important and how much of a recurrent presence you are in their life, it doesn't mean you actually know them. Or, at least, it can never be a promise of knowing them entirely. People show you what they want you to see, and nothing more.

Sometimes- too often, Even forgets about it.

The same way it's tempting to draw hasty, convenient conclusions about someone after only a few moments with them, like he did with Isak, it can be painfully easy to forget that no one really knows the shadow of one's soul that hides in the recesses of the heart, the shame and the remorse that humans are so good at disguising under fake, forced smiles, buried, oh so deeply, within themselves that they sometimes forget it even exists.

But it's still there, rotting from the inside out.

Even forgot about it. Easy. Simple. Like it happens fairly often.

Yet, he knows he shouldn't have.

It's his mistake.

*

Marianne isn't doing much better, but she isn't doing worse, and since Even knows that when it comes to mental illnesses, it's a long-term race, a life-time fight, he tries to hope for the best and to be satisfied with every mouthful of food he can talk Marianne into eating, every step he can convinced her to take in her living room, and every word he can coax out of her, even if it's a whispered _I'm exhausted_.

Even gets it. He's sometimes exhausted by the simple act of breathing, too.

In many ways, it's been a long day, and in others, not so much. Time flies differently when you're depressed, but it does as well when you're sitting by someone else's side and wait for the chemicals in their brain to do their work properly again. It's chemistry. It's science. 

It's something Isak would understand better than Even does, but Isak has yet to come to try to explain it to his mother, and it's fine. It's fine.

He's trying, and it's all that matters.

Right? 

(Right.)

Every day, every couple of hours, Even gets a message from Isak. About Marianne. Not always about Marianne. In any case, Even feels the same cliché butterflies in his belly, the same rush of adrenaline in his veins, the same fast-paced dance of his heart inside his chest. It's maddening. It's addictive.

He wonders what it says about him. How deep is he already?

But sometimes, it's bittersweet. Barely - because he's whipped like that, apparently. But still, it stings a bit, when he lays his eyes on Marianne who looks especially lost in thoughts lately, but never shares them, not anymore.

He doesn't need her to talk to know who she's thinking about though. This is what stings. The guilt.

Even isn't sure it's a professional thing to do because Isak is a part of his personal life, even if he's also Marianne's personal life. But the line between them has been blurred for a long time now, so the words slip out before he has time to message Mikael and tell him, _I'm about to do something stupid, I think?_

His best friend would have probably told him something along the line of, _if you know it's stupid then don't do it, stupid!_

Or maybe not. Maybe he wouldn't have seen his message at all. Ever since he's started dating Adam, he's been, to say the least… Busy.

The point is, he doesn't stop to think before saying, "I've been talking to Isak."

For the first time in days, Marianne reacts. Body and soul and mind. She straightens up, turns in Even's direction, eyes focused and not so dull anymore. 

"Isak?" She mouths, almost like she's trying out the name on her tongue. 

"Yes. Isak. We've been…" Even pauses. _Seeing each other? Kissing? Falling…_ He shouldn't say too much. He doesn't know what Isak wants her to know or not. Once again, it's not his place to say anything. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it at all. But it felt wrong, like hiding something essential from her. "We've been talking," he sighs in the end.

Marianne stares at him in complete silence, breathing steadily. She doesn't seem upset. Truth to be told, she doesn't seem to care - at all. 

It makes Even feel even more uneasy. He shouldn't have said anything.

But then, she looks away, somewhere on the other side of the room, and Even notices where her eyes travelled: to a very old Christmas card six-year-old Isak wrote with his clumsy handwriting at school to give to his mother. Even knows what's written inside.

A message: _Merry Christmas to the best mom in the world. I love you. Isak._

"Such a sweet little boy," Marianne says all of sudden. It's barely more than a murmur. Even doesn't know if he was meant to hear it at all, but he did, and there is something so painfully heartbreaking in the way she spoke, her words feel like someone's reaching between his ribs to squeeze his heart.

It sounds a bit like tragedy. Like the sweet little boy is no longer.

"The closet. Always hiding."

Even frowns. "What?"

"I didn't mean to hurt him. But I thought I had to hide him, you know?"

He doesn't know.

After months of taking care of Marianne, of listening to her stories, to her memories and tales about the little boy with golden, shiny curls and a teasing smile, Even really thought there were only a few more brushes lacking to the whole painting.

He had no idea how unfinished, how counterfeit the piece he has painted over the time really is.

"Who's protecting him now?" She asks, and she sounds alarmed. "Who's taking care of him?"

"Isak's fine. He's okay," he tries to reassure her, but she looks like she's daydreaming more than anything. 

Goddamn meds. Useless psychiatrist. Even is ready to pull out his phone and call him when Marianne puts her hand on his arm, distracting him.

"Did Isak stop by?"

The expression of Marianne's face is unreadable. He can't tell if it's hope. He can't tell if it's fear either. It doesn't make any sense. But it breaks Even's heart all the same.

"No," he breathes out. "No, he didn't."

Marianne curls on the couch and falls asleep within seconds.

*

**Even**

_What time do you get off?_

**Isak**

_6pm_

**Even**

_Wait for me :)_

**Isak**

_You know you don't have to act all gentleman to woo me anymore, right?_

_I'm familiar with your bed, you're familiar with mine, I think the work is done_

**Even**

_Cute ;)_

_I'm no gentleman, but I do have a thing for you in your work outfit_

**Isak**

_… Are you serious? That's why you keep showing up at the pharmacy?_

**Even**

_Yup. And to see your pretty face, too_

**Isak**

_Is that a kink?_

_Maybe I should bring it back home_

**Even**

_I love that mind of yours Dr. Valtersen_

**Isak**

_Intern Valtersen for now_

_Btw I was right! My colleague has a huge crush on you!_

_She asked for my "friend's" (= you) phone number..._

**Even**

_Does it mean I should suck your face in front of her to make it clear?_

**Isak**

_Maybe_

**Even**

_Petty_

_I like it <3 _

*

There is a hole in Isak's sock, on top of his big toe. It's not the first time Even sees it. Maybe he should give Isak a new pair of socks. 

Or maybe not. Isak likes to hide his feet under Even's thigh when he's cold. And Even...

Even doesn't mind. He doesn't mind because it means he gets to have Isak close to him, something he isn't used to just yet. Everything still feels fresh and new: Isak's giggles echoing in his room, the smell of his cologne on the pillow that became his more than Even's, the toothbrush Isak forgot once but never picked up, making itself at home in Even's bathroom. 

In many ways, they've been going slow. In many others, being together has been so effortless, so easy, they might have fallen into certain habits a bit too quickly.

They don't talk about it, though. About what they are, or aren't; about what they know, or don't. Truth to be told, they don't talk much about anything serious.

There are many questions Even would like to ask, and many answers left to say, but it's hard to talk oneself into speaking it into existence when Isak looks soft and relaxed lying on his bed, muffled in a hoodie he stole from him. Their legs are intertwined, and Even's fingers are running into Isak's curls, drawing shapes and patterns on his scalp that have Isak's eyelids drooping in peaceful drowsiness. 

"If you keep going," Isak mutters, barely a whisper, "I will fall asleep on you." 

It might sound like a warning, but his head pushes into Even's hand when he says it, prompting him to keep going.

Even grins. "Then do. It's alright." 

He knows how much Isak is struggling with sleep, and part of him feels proud of being the reason why it gets a little bit easier for him sometimes. He wants nothing more than to make things less of a constant fight for him. Often, Even wonders what else he could do to help. Wonders if, by being a steady link between Isak and Marianne, he has the power to do more.

Because Even doesn't know everything, but he knows most of Isak's monsters that are keeping him awake at night are also Marianne's. 

The thought reminds him of what he did a few hours ago, of his admission to Marianne, and the more he thinks about it, the more an invisible creature is crawling under his skin, clinging at his guts, whispering to him that, perhaps, most likely, he's been selfish. For speaking. For not speaking.

For having Isak by his side. For leaving Marianne in the dark.

For too many things. He doesn't even know anymore.

"I told Marianne- I told your mother about us," Even confesses, disrupting the soothing silence of his bedroom with very simple words; and yet the meaning behind them has Isak's body tense beside him. He can pinpoint the exact moment Isak stops breathing, holding his breath until he adds, "I mean, no, I didn't tell her about… You know. I just mentioned the fact we talked."

"You told her we talked?" Isak repeats.

"Yes. That we talked. That's it."

"Why?"

 _Guilt_ , is the truth, but not something he dares speaking out loud. Out of guilt, because Even gets to spend time with Isak, but Marianne doesn't, and it doesn't feel right.

"I don't know," he lies instead. "Just wanted to be honest."

Isak pauses for a long time, and Even waits, waits for him to get mad, perhaps. In the end, Isak shrugs and says, "okay." And then, voice tentative, as if he doesn't know if he should ask, "what did she say?"

Even thinks about Marianne's incoherent words, her worries about her son, and he doesn't know how to explain it. He can barely understand it himself. Her last request was clear, though.

"She asked if you stopped by."

"If I did?" Isak clears his voice, chasing his emotion away. "Or if I will?"

"If you did." Even knows he should drop the subject, should mind his own business, but something inside him clenches and twists and the words are out before he can really think it through. "Will you? Someday? Will you?"

Isak shifts, still lying on the bed, but moving inches away from Even, out of the reach of his hands, out of the warmth of his body. "Why?" His voice is low and cold. A clear warning he should change the subject.

He doesn't. "I think she would really appreciate seeing you. It would make her… happy. She misses you." Silence. "You know, just a visit wouldn't hurt and she-"

Even should have seen it coming. Or maybe he did. And maybe he chose to ignore it anyway.

"And- You- Who do _you_ think you are to tell me what to do?!" 

Isak is out of his bed in a blink of the eye before Even has time to move a single limb. His words are sharp, his voice hard, but his face… He looks _sad_ , Even realizes, and it breaks his heart to know he has a part in it. He just ruined everything again. 

"I'm not one of your patients."

Is it what Even has been doing? Treating him like his patient? Like someone he should take care of?

He gets up from the bed, too, but Isak takes a step back, keeping a safe distance between them. It hurts more than he would have imagined. "That's not what I meant to do, Isak, I-"

"Then what?"

"I'm just trying to help. She misses you. You miss her, I can tell. If you two just talked, maybe you would realize you can work things out," Even keeps talking, and he doesn't know why, because he knows he's wrong and he should stop meddling. The puzzle is incomplete, it lacks some crucial pieces and forcing the wrong ones together won't help solving it.

"You think you understand? Just because you're paid to take care of her, you think you understand what she's living? Or what I've been living with her? You don't know anything. You have no idea." His voice breaks along the way, and Even gets a glimpse of teary eyes before Isak looks away from him.

It's like they are back right where they started, incapable of communicating, jumping to conclusions: Even not knowing what's keeping Isak away from his mother, Isak not knowing why it feels so important to Even to bring them together.

"I- I do-"

"Don't you dare," Isak cuts him off. "You don't. Because you know what?" He laughs but it's bitter, it's painful to hear. "She doesn't want to see me. She told me to never come back."

And then, Isak storms out of his bedroom, of the apartment, and Even lets him because he doesn't have the words to stop him. He doesn't think he's allowed to ask Isak to stay, not after what he just did to him.

*

Mikael must have heard them fight because when Even leaves his room, his best friend looks like he's been waiting for him to show up, two cups of steaming tea and a comforting smile ready to welcome him, ready to make things better.

If only he could fix everything so easily. Some tea and a smile. What a blissful world they would be living in.

They settle on the living room couch, a blanket thrown over their crossed legs - Mikael's doing, one of the gentle, caring gestures that reminds Even of how great a person his best friend is. Sometimes, he wonders if he deserves the people he has in his life. Tonight sure is one of those where he doubts he does.

"So," Mikael starts, once the silence between them stretches for too long and it's obvious Even won't open up first. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I swear. But you guys were pretty loud and I was sitting right here so… Is it about Isak's mother?"

Even sighs. Is it? Or is it about him trying to be some kind of hero for his own benefit? 

"I just… I felt bad for having Isak for myself when she hadn't seen him in… In years. And I tried to talk him into seeing her, I think. But I did everything wrong. _Again_. I thought, for whatever reason, he didn't want to see her. Turns out, it might have been the complete opposite."

Mikael sits silently beside him, nodding at his words but leaving him space to pause and think. As much as a talker he is, his friend is very good at listening to people, too.

"He also said something…" Mikael glances at him, a spark of worry in his eyes. "Something about me treating him like a patient. And I really didn't mean to, I swear, but it made me think. What if I've been with him to prove myself something? Some bullshit savior complex about me fixing things for once."

Mikael frowns, interrupting him this time, "well, do you like him?"

"Of course."

"Do you like- _like_ him?"

"Of course," Even repeats, not thinking twice about it. "I really like him. When he's not around, I miss him and I think about all the random, not even that funny, things I want to tell him. I think about the next time I can see him. And when he's finally here with me, I feel warm all over. I- Shit, sorry."

His best friend snorts, looking endeared more than annoyed at his sappy rambling. "Okay, Romeo, I get it."

"Fuck. What does it mean anyway?"

Mikael takes a sip of his tea, relaxed but serious. If Even didn't feel like shit, he would probably laugh at him. "I think you can't be both. You can't be Marianne's caretaker _and_ Isak's boyfriend - or whatever you two are," he says and Even's heart stops for a second. "I mean… I'm not saying you have to quit your job or break up. I mean, you can't be these two versions of yourself when you are with either Isak or Marianne. You need to choose. Because like you said, you don't even know what happened between them. So when you're with Marianne, you should listen to her, because that's your job. But when you're with Isak, you should listen to him and _not_ tell him what to do. Because it's not your place. You're supposed to be making out with him and stuff, not acting like a mediator." He takes a deep breath. "Shit, that's too many words."

Even smiles half-genuinely. 

"But listen," Mikael resumes. He leans closer to Even and makes eye contact, the way he does when he's trying to get through to him. Like when Even feels useless and hollow and Mikael is trying to convince him he's loved and important. "I know you, and you're incapable of doing anything half-way. You have the biggest crush on Isak, and nothing can convince me otherwise. It has nothing to do with proving yourself. You like this kid. That's it. Don't start doubting your own feelings."

"Maybe," Even whispers.

"Not _maybe_ , you know I'm right. And for what it's worth, I like the way you've been since you met him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, don't take it the wrong way" Mikael shrugs, "but I felt like… Maybe you've been following the same habits than your patients, kind of? Trying so hard to be the responsible, steady guy that you stopped yourself from living." He pauses but Even doesn't say anything. It's not a pleasant thing to hear, but it's the truth nonetheless. He did spend a lot of time worrying about what he shouldn't be instead of simply _be_. "So, like, I'm glad you're taking risks again. Even if it means getting hurt sometimes."

"Or hurting someone else," he sighs.

"Nothing you can't fix, lover boy. Nothing you can't apologize for either. Does Isak even know your side of the story?"

He doesn't, Even realizes. Isak knows as little about him as Even knows about him and his mother.

Mikael seems to have read his mind. "Then, tell him. I'm sure he will understand. Communicate and shit. I heard it's the recipe for a healthy relationship."

"Oh, really?" Even snorts. "Since when did you become so wise?"

Mikael shrugs, acting coy while biting back an obvious smirk. For months, Even has been in his place, trying to talk some sense into him. Now that it's the other way around, his best friend is having far too much fun. It's alright though. He deserves the recognition. He did help him greatly with this talk. 

"I don't know, man. Maybe Adam's dick is magic or something."

… Or maybe not.

Even grabs the first pillow he can find and throws it at his giggling best friend's face.

*

**Even**

_Dear Isak,_

_I'm sorry for everything I said. I know I was wrong. But if you will let me, I have something to tell you. I want to explain._

_I'm bipolar._

_Not that it's an excuse, nor a justification. But it's a fact. It's a part of me, no matter how hard I would like it not to be, and sometimes it's stronger than my will, and I do things in reaction to it._

_You were right about something. Maybe I was trying to take care of you. And I don't think it's bad, you know? What was wrong, though, is that I did it for myself. I did it because I'm bipolar. I did it because for the longest time I felt like people took care of me and I could only ever be on the receiving end of such care, and not the contrary. Things changed. Now I take care of people for a living. Maybe it's my revenge on life. Maybe it's my way to prove myself and the world I'm not a liability, I can be responsible for someone else, too._

_The bottom line is, I made it about myself, and I'm sorry._

_I never meant to hurt you. I shouldn't have tried to tell you what you have to do when I don't know the first thing about you and your mother._

_When I was younger, and freshly diagnosed, I used to wonder: "where will they leave me? When will they realize I'm not worth the burden?". It's a scary thing, and maybe I thought if I could be the person that fixed things between Marianne and you, then, in the future, someone else would fix what's broken between me and someone I love. Someone else would fix what I've ruined. I don't know._

_I don't know what I thought. But trust me when I tell you I never intended to hurt you, or judge you, or blame you._

_I don't want to fix you. I don't want to take care of you, not in the way you think._

_If anything, I just want a chance to be with you. To love you._

_And perhaps, equally take care of each other. How does that sound?_

_Please forgive me._

**Read at 21:21**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... What did you feel? ❤️
> 
> See you soon xx


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